


color in your cheeks

by johnllauren



Series: drabbles [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bickering, Historical Hetalia, M/M, just two guys being idiots and annoying each other. i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:08:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29644155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: England makes a face at him. “Don’t finish my sentences for me.”Prussia scoffs. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please.”
Relationships: England/Prussia (Hetalia)
Series: drabbles [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178282
Comments: 1
Kudos: 16





	color in your cheeks

**Author's Note:**

> happy pruk week!! sorry this is so short, i was planning on writing more but life got in the way so,,,, take this lil drabble :^)

England lets the blade of his sword scrape across the floor. It makes a noise, of course, though not as loud as he’d hoped, and it doesn’t bring him any catharsis. He lets it keep scraping as he walks. 

“Hello?” Prussia calls, voice ringing through the otherwise empty room, echoing through the otherwise empty sitting room. He doesn’t make an effort to sit up properly on the couch or crane his neck enough to see who it is. England wonders if he even cares. 

“Just me,” England says anyway. The sword catches on the floor, and he picks it back up in annoyance, placing it on a sitting chair as he walks. 

“The fuck are you making that noise for?” Prussia asks. “Gonna give me a migraine.” 

“No I won’t,” England says. He’s right, of course. 

Prussia has draped himself rather dramatically on one of the couches, where he’d been tossing a pillow into the air and catching it until about a half hour ago, when he had aimed wrong and the pillow had hit the ground, too far for him to grab without actually getting up. So he’d left it there and has opted instead for scrutinizing the ceiling. 

England takes a seat on the couch opposite Prussia, crossing his legs like a proper gentleman, and Prussia wishes he still had the pillow just so he could hit England with it. 

“You seem grumpy,” Prussia says instead. 

“I could say the same about you,” England responds immediately, but neither of their words are even biting anymore. 

“So,” Prussia asks, shifting to sit up properly so he can get a good look at England, “tell me, _what_ has got your knickers in a twist this time?” 

England rolls his eyes. “Have you forgotten about the-”

“War we’re in? No, I haven’t, thanks.” 

England makes a face at him. “Don’t finish my sentences for me.”

Prussia scoffs. “I’ll do whatever I damn well please.” 

England grits his teeth and crosses his arms. Prussia isn’t even fazed. 

Prussia’s learned by now to just leave England alone when he’s in a mood like this. England is too close to human in the way he is solitary, nasty, brutish, and short, and Prussia doesn’t know how much longer he can be forced to be in England’s company without breaking something. France knows how to deal with England, or maybe he’s just got a thick enough skin to sit through the insults England hurls when you talk to him and he’s in a mood.

Sitting in silence is so remarkably boring that Prussia actually gets up to retrieve his pillow and continues his game.

Finally, England speaks.

“I do hope you’re planning on matching with me.”

“Matching with you?”

“To the ball.”

Prussia laughs. “I’m not planning on going tonight at all.” 

England glares at him. “I will not tolerate being stood up by my closest and _newest_ ally.” 

“I didn’t know you wanted to go to the ball.”

“I don’t,” England snaps.

“So don’t go. Let’s just not go.” Prussia says easily, shifting himself so his boots are on the couch. 

“But my boss-”

“England, your boss is a human, he’s got what, definitely less than 20 years left. So you don’t go tonight. What’s he gonna do? Look at you like he’s disappointed and say you should’ve been there? Slap you on the wrist? You and I have lived his lifetime one thousand times over.”

“So you want us to skip the ball. Together.”

Prussia rolls his eyes. “Christ on the cross, England, if you don’t want to spend time with me you don’t have to.” 

“I never said that,” England snaps.

Prussia blinks at him. “So you - you _do_ want to?”

“I’m not going to the ball,” England says, and it spares his pride while answering Prussia’s question.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at lafayettesass


End file.
